but it was the best he could get out of her. He could not prevent--it
was too late now--her being called as a witness. Come what might, she
was his sister and never would, never could, put him into danger.
At last the time had come. Nina made her way, with much difficulty, to
the witness-box; steadily took her stand and was sworn. All Kimberley,
as she knew, was looking intently and watching her every gesture. She
had changed greatly in the last few weeks, and now looked, for her, thin
and worn--almost ill. The usual warmth of her dark beauty was lacking.
An ivory pallor overspread her face; but her glorious eyes were firm,
open and determined, and honesty and truth, men well might see, were in
her glance. She looked once quickly at the two judges and the
magistrate sitting with them, and then her eyes met Frank's, and for him
a world of sympathy was in them. It did Frank good and he breathed more
freely. Nina, at all events, was the Nina of old.
The prosecuting advocate opened the girl's evidence quietly, with the
usual preliminaries. Then very gently he asked Nina if she was well
acquainted with the prisoner. Her reply was, "Yes, very well
acquainted."
"I suppose," continued counsel, "I may even call him a friend of yours?"
"Yes," replied Nina, "a very great friend."
"Without penetrating unduly into your private affairs and sympathies,
Miss Staarbrucker," went on the advocate, "I will ask you to tell the
court shortly what you actually saw on the night in question--the night,
I mean, when the diamond was first seen by yourself and your brother."
Here was Nina's opportunity, and she took advantage of it. She told
plainly, yet graphically, the story of that evening; she portrayed the
amazed delight of Frank on the discovery of the stone, his free avowal
of his find, the knife in his hand, the open crocodile on the table, the
pebbles previously taken from the reptile's stomach. She went on with
her story with only such pauses as the taking of the judge's notes
required. Counsel, once or twice, attempted to pull her up; she was
going much too fast and too far to please him; but the court allowed her
to complete her narrative. She dealt with the next two days. Mr
Farnborough had kept the diamond, it was true. He was puzzled to know
what to do with it. He had, finally, announced his intention of giving
it up and declaring it, and he would undoubtedly have done so, but for
his arrest. The stone might have been stolen, or it might not, but Mr
Farnborough, as all his friends knew, was absolutely incapable of
stealing diamonds, or of buying diamonds, knowing them to be stolen.
The stone came into his possession in a perfectly innocent manner, as
she could and did testify on oath. As for her brother's suspicions, she
could not answer for or understand them. For two days, he at all events
had had none; she could not account for his sudden change. Spite of the
judge's cautions, she concluded a breathless little harangue--for she
had let herself go completely now--by expressing her emphatic belief in
Frank's absolute innocence.
She had finished, and in her now deathly pale beauty was leaving the
box. There were no further questions asked by counsel upon either side.
Nina had said far too much for the one, and the advocate for the
defence judged it wiser to leave such a runaway severely alone. Who
knew in what direction she might turn next? He whispered regretfully to
his solicitor: "If we had got hold of that girl, by George! we might
have done some good with her--with a martingale and double bit on."
The senior judge, as Nina concluded, remarked blandly--for he had an eye
for beauty--"I am afraid we have allowed you a good deal too much
latitude. Miss Staarbrucker, and a great deal of what you have told the
court is quite inadmissible as evidence."
As for Otto, he had stared with open mouth and fixed glare at his sister
during her brief episode. He now heaved a deep breath of relief, as he
watched the judges.
"Thank God!" he said to himself savagely under his breath, "she has
overdone it, and spoilt her own game--the little fool!"
Nina moved to her seat and sat, now faint and dejected, watching with
feverish eyes for the end.
The case for the prosecution was soon finished. Three witnesses,
experts of well-known reputation and unimpeachable character, testified
to the fact that the stone was a De Beers stone, and by no possibility
any other. Evidence was then put in, proving conclusively that the
diamond was unregistered.
Counsel for the defence had but a poor case, but he made the best of it.
He dwelt upon the unimpeachable reputation of the prisoner, upon the
utter improbability of his having stolen the diamond, or bought it,
knowing it to be stolen. There was not a particle of direct evidence
upon these points. The testimony of experts was never satisfactory.
Their evidence in this case was mere matter of opinion. It was well
known that the history of gold and gem finding exceeded in romance the
wildest inspirations of novelists. The finding of the first diamond in
South Africa was a case very much in point. Why should not the diamond
have come from the Mahalapsi River with the other gravel in the belly of
the dead crocodile? Mr Farnborough's friend, Mr Kentburn, would prove
beyond doubt that he had brought the mummified crocodile from the
Mahalapsi River, where he had picked it up. The greatest offence that
could by any possibility be brought home to his client was that he had
this stone in his possession for two days without declaring it! That
was an act of sheer inadvertence. The stone was not a Griqualand West
stone, and it was a puzzling matter, with a young and inexperienced man,
to know quite what to do with it. If the stone were, as he, counsel,
contended, not a stone from the Cape districts at all, it was an
arguable question whether the court had any rights or jurisdiction in
this case whatever. Would it be contended that a person coming to South
Africa, innocently, with a Brazilian or an Indian diamond in his
possession, could be hauled off to prison, and thereafter sentenced for
unlawful possession? Such a contention would be monstrous! The great
diamond industry had in South Africa far too much power already--many
men thought. Let them be careful in further stretching or adding to
those powers--powers that reminded unbiassed people more of the worst
days of the Star Chamber or the Inquisition, than of a modern community.
Had the prisoner attempted to conceal the diamond? On the contrary, he
had shown it eagerly to Mr Staarbrucker and his sister immediately he
had found it. That was not the act of a guilty man!
These, and many other arguments, were employed by the defending advocate
in a powerful and almost convincing speech. There were weak points,
undoubtedly--fatally weak, many of the spectators thought them. These
were avoided, or lightly skated over with consummate art. The advocate
closed his speech with a touching appeal that a young, upright, and
promising career might not be wrecked upon the vaguest of circumstantial
evidence.
The speech was over; all the witnesses had been called, the addresses
concluded. The afternoon was wearing on apace, and the court was
accordingly adjourned; the prisoner was put back into jail again, and
the crowded assemblage flocked into the outer air, to discuss hotly
throughout the rest of the evening the many points of this singular and
absorbing case.
Again, as usual in Kimberley at this season, the next morning broke
clear and invigorating. All the world of the corrugated-iron city
seemed, after breakfast, brisk, keen, and full of life as they went
about their business. The Cape swallows flitted, and hawked, and played
hither and thither in the bright atmosphere, or sat, looking sharply
about them, upon the telegraph wires or housetops, preening their
feathers and displaying their handsome, chestnut body colouring. The
great market square was still full of waggons and long spans of oxen,
and of native people, drawn from well-nigh every quarter of Southern
Africa.
Out there in the sunlit market-place stood a man, whose strong brain was
just now busily engaged in piecing together and puzzling out the
patchwork of this extraordinary case. David Ayling, with his mighty
voice, Scotch accent, oak-like frame, keen grey eyes, and vast iron-grey
beard, was a periodical and excellently well-known Kimberley visitant.
For years he had traded and hunted in the far interior. His reputation
for courage, resource, and fair dealing was familiar to all men, and
David's name had for years been a household word from the Cape to the
Zambesi. Periodically, the trader came down to Kimberley with his
waggons and outfit, after a year or two spent in the distant interior.
Yesterday morning he had come in, and in the afternoon and evening he
seemed to hear upon men's tongues nothing else than Frank Farnborough's
case, and the story of the Mahalapsi diamond. Now David had known Frank
for some few years, and had taken a liking to him. Several times he had
brought down-country small collections of skins, and trophies of the
chase, got together at the young man's suggestion. He had in his
waggon, even now, some new and rare birds from the far-off Zambesi
lands, and the two had had many a deal together. Frank's unhappy plight
at once took hold of the trader's sympathies, and the Mahalapsi and
crocodile episodes tended yet further to excite his interest. Certain
suspicions had been growing in his mind. This morning, before
breakfast, he had carefully read and re-read the newspaper report of the
trial, and now, just before the court opened, he was waiting
impatiently, with further developments busily evolving in his brain.
There was a bigger crowd even than yesterday; the prisoner and counsel
had come in; all waited anxiously for the end of the drama. In a few
minutes the court entered, grave and self-possessed, and the leading
judge began to arrange his notes.
At that moment, David Ayling, who had shouldered his way to the fore,
stood up and addressed the court in his tremendous deep-chested tones,
which penetrated easily to every corner of the chamber.
"Your Honours," he said, "before you proceed further, I should like to
lay one or two facts before you--not yet known in this case. They are
very important, and I think you should hear them in order that justice
may be done, and perhaps an innocent man saved. I have only just come
down from the Zambesi and never heard of this trial till late yesterday
afternoon."
Two persons, as they listened to these words and looked at the strong,
determined man uttering them, felt, they knew not why, instantly braced
and strengthened, as if by a mighty tonic. They were Frank, the
prisoner, hitherto despairing and out of heart, and Nina Staarbrucker,
sitting at the back of the court, pale and trembling with miserable
anticipations.
"You know me, your Honour, I think," went on David, in his deep Scotch
voice.
"Yes, Mr Ayling, we know you, of course," answered the senior judge
(every one in Kimberley knew David Ayling), "and I am, with my
colleagues, anxious to get at all the evidence available, before
delivering judgment. This is somewhat irregular, but, upon the whole, I
think you had better be sworn and state what you have to say."
David went to the witness-box and was sworn. "This crocodile skin
here," he went on, pointing to the skin, which was handed up to him, "I
happen to know very well. I have examined it carefully before your
lordship came in; it is small, and of rather peculiar shape, especially
about the head. I remember that skin well, and can swear to it; there
are not many like it knocking about. That skin was put on to my waggon
in Kimberley seventeen months ago, and was carried by me to the
Mahalapsi River."
The court had become intensely interested as the trader spoke, the
judges and magistrate pricked up their ears and looked intently, first
at the skin, then at David.
"Go on," said the judge.
"Well, your Honour," resumed David, "the skin was put on to my waggon in
February of last year, by Sam Vesthreim, a Jew storekeeper, in a small
way in Beaconsfield. There were some other odds and ends put on the
waggon, little lots of goods, which I delivered in Barkly West. But the
crocodile skin, Sam Vesthreim said, was a bit of a curio, and he
particularly wanted it left at some friend's place farther up-country.
I was in a hurry at the time, and forgot to take the name, but Sam said
there was a label on the skin. The thing was pitched in with a lot of
other stuff, and lay there for a long time! Lost sight of it till we
had got to the Mahalapsi River, where the waggon was overturned in
crossing. I offloaded, and the crocodile skin then turned up with the
label off. We were heavily laden; the skin was, I thought, useless; we
were going on to the Zambesi, and I had clean forgotten where the skin
ought to have been left. It seemed a useless bit of gear, so I just
pitched it away in the bushes, in the very spot, as near as I can make
it, where Mr Farnborough's friend, Mr Kentburn, found it, nearly a
year later, as he came down-country. That is one remarkable thing. I
would like to add, my lord, that the Mahalapsi is a dry river, never
running except in rains; and in all my experience, and I have passed it
some scores of times, I never knew a crocodile up in that neighbourhood.
The chances of there being any other crocodile skin in that sandy place
and among those bushes, where Mr Kentburn found this one, would, I
reckon, be something like a million (David pronounced it mullion) to
one.
"There is one other point, your Honours. Long after Sam Vesthreim
delivered that skin on my waggon, I read in the newspapers that he had
been arrested for I.D.B.--only a few weeks after I saw him--and
sentenced to a term of imprisonment. I have been puzzling mightily over
this case, and I must say, the more I think of it, the more
unaccountable seems to me the fact of Sam Vesthreim sending that dried
crocodile skin up-country. If it had been down-country, or to England,
I could understand it; but in this case it seems very much like sending
coals to Newcastle. I never knew that Sam was in the I.D.B. trade till
I saw his imprisonment in the paper. I think he had some peculiar
object in getting that skin out of his house. And I cannot help
thinking, your Honours, that Sam Vesthreim, if he could be found, could
throw a good deal of light on this crocodile and diamond business. In
fact, I'm sure of it. It's quite on the cards, to my thinking, that he
put the diamond in that crocodile himself."
Some questions were put to the witness by counsel for both sides,
without adding to or detracting from the narrative in any way. The
court seemed a good deal impressed by David's story, as indeed did the
whole of the crowded audience, who had breathlessly listened to its
recital. Mr Flecknoe, the detective, was called forward. He informed
the court that Sam Vesthreim was now at Cape Town undergoing a long term
of imprisonment. He was no doubt at work on the Breakwater.
The senior judge was a man of decision, and he had quickly made up his
mind. After a short whispered consultation with his colleagues, he
spoke. "The turn this case has taken is so singular, and the evidence
given by Mr Ayling has imported so new an aspect, that in the
prisoner's interest we are determined to have the matter sifted to the
bottom. I will adjourn the court for a week, in order to secure the
convict Vesthreim's attendance here upon oath. Will this day week suit
the convenience of all counsel in this case?"
Counsel intimated that the day of adjournment met their views, and once
more the crowded court emptied. As David Ayling turned to leave, he
caught Frank Farnborough's eye. He gave him a bright reassuring nod,
and a wink which did him a world of good. Altogether, Frank went back
to another weary week's confinement in far better spirits than he had
been for many days. There was, at all events, some slight element of
hope and explanation now. And it was refreshing to him as a draught of
wine, to find such a friend as David Ayling fighting his battle so
stoutly, so unexpectedly.
Nina Staarbrucker stole silently out of the court, only anxious to get
home, and escape observation. There were many eyes upon her, but she
heeded them not at all. Thank God! there seemed some ray of light for
Frank; for herself, whether Frank came out triumphantly or no, there was
no outlook, all seemed blackness and gloom. Otto's part in this
wretched business had made ruin of all her hopes. Her brother's
treachery had determined her upon seeking a career of her own; work of
some sort--anywhere away from Kimberley--she must get, and get at once,
so soon as the trial was over, and whatever its result.
Once more, in a week's time, the court wore its former aspect, the
characters were all marshalled for the final act. The new addition to
the caste, Mr Samuel Vesthreim, a lively, little, dark-visaged Jew of
low type, seemed on the best of terms with himself. For more than
fifteen months he had been hard at it on Cape Town Breakwater, or
road-scarping upon the breezy heights round the Cape peninsula--always,
of course, under the escort of guards and the unpleasing supervision of
loaded rifles--and really he needed a little rest and change. This trip
to Kimberley was the very thing for him. What slight sense of shame he
had ever possessed, had long since vanished under his recent hardening
experiences; and as the little man looked round the crowded court, and
saw the well-remembered faces of many a Kimberley acquaintance, it did
his heart good. He positively beamed again--in a properly subdued
manner, of course.
The senior judge remarked to the advocates, "Perhaps it will save the
time of all if I put some questions to this witness myself." The
suggestion was gracefully received, and the judge turned to the little
Jew, now attentive in the witness-box.
"Samuel, or Sam Vesthreim, you are a convict now undergoing a term of
penal servitude at Cape Town, I think?"
"Yeth, my lord."
"It may perhaps tend slightly to lessen or mitigate the extreme term of
your imprisonment if I receive perfectly truthful and straightforward
answers to the questions I am going to ask. Be very careful, therefore.
Any future recommendation on my part to the authorities will depend
upon yourself."
"Yeth, my lord," answered Sam, in his most serious manner--and he meant
it.
"About seventeen months ago you were in business in Beaconsfield, were
you not?"
"Yeth, my lord."
"Do you know Mr Ayling here?" pointing to the trader.
"I do, my lord."
"Do you remember intrusting Mr Ayling with some goods about that time
to take up-country?"
"I do, my lord."
"What were they?"
"There were three cases of groceries to be delivered in Barkly West, and
a crocodile skin to be left at the place of a friend of mine near
Zeerust, in Marico, Transvaal."
"Take that skin in your hands." The crocodile was handed up like a
baby. "Do you recognise it?"
"Yeth, my lord, that is the identical skin, I believe, that I handed to
Mr Ayling."
"Now, be careful. Was there anything inside that crocodile skin?"
The little Jew saw now exactly which way the cat jumped, and he saw,
too, that only the truth could be of use to him in the weary days and
years yet to come on Cape Town Breakwater. The court was hushed by this
time to an absolute silence. You could have heard a feather fall,
almost.
"Well, my lord," the little Jew replied, "there _wath_ something inside
that crocodile. I had had a little bit of a speculation, and there was
a big diamond inside the crocodile skin. I put it there myself. You
see, my lord," he went on rapidly, "I had been doing one or two little
transactions in stones, and I fancied there was something in the air,
and so I put away that diamond and packed it off in the crocodile skin,
safe, as I thought, to a friend in the Transvaal. It was a risk, but
just at that time it was the only way out of the difficulty. I meant to
have had an eye on the skin again, myself, a few days after, but I had a
little difficulty with the police and I was prevented."
As Sam Vesthreim finished, Frank could have almost hugged him for the
news he brought. An irrepressible murmur of relief ran round the
crowded court, a murmur that the usher was for a minute or two powerless
to prevent. The judge whispered to an attendant. The diamond was
produced and handed to the Jew. "Do you recognise that stone?" said the
judge.
"I do, my lord," answered Vesthreim emphatically. "That is the stone I
put inside the crocodile. I could swear to it among a thousand." The
little man's eyes gleamed pleasurably yet regretfully upon the gem as he
spoke.
Here, then, was the mystery of the fatal, puzzling diamond cleared up.
There were few more questions to ask. The little Jew frankly admitted
that the stone was a De Beers stone, stolen by a native worker; there
was little else to learn. Frank was a free man, practically, as he
stood there, jaded and worn, yet at least triumphant. It was a dear
triumph though, only snatched from disaster by the merest chance in the
world--the coming of David Ayling. And the tortures, the agonies he had
suffered in these last few weeks of suspense! He knew that nothing--the
kindly congratulations of friends, the tenderer affection of relations,
the hearty welcome of a well-nigh lost world--none of these good things
could ever quite repay him, ever restore to him what he had lost.
In a very few minutes Frank had been discharged from custody. The
judges in brief, sympathetic speeches, congratulated him on his
triumphant issue from a very terrible ordeal, and trusted that the
applause and increased respect of his fellow-citizens would in some
slight degree make up to him for his undoubted sufferings.
Frank left the court, arm in arm with David Ayling, whom he could not
sufficiently thank for his timely and strenuous assistance. A troop of
friends escorted him to the Transvaal Hotel, where his health was drunk
in the hearty Kimberley way, with innumerable congratulations. All this
was very gratifying, as was the magnificent dinner which a number of
friends gave to him a day or two later, at which half Kimberley
assisted. But, for the present, Frank desired only to be left severely
alone, with the quieter companionship of his few most intimate friends.
He was still half stunned and very unwell; some weeks or months must
elapse before he should be himself again.
One of his first inquiries was after Nina Staarbrucker, whom he wished
sincerely to thank for her brave and honest defence of him at the trial.
He learned, with a good deal of surprise, that she had left Kimberley
on the morning after the trial, alone. He learned too, with less
surprise, that Otto had quitted the town on urgent business in the
Transvaal, and was not likely to return for some time. Beyond these
bare facts, he could gather little or nothing of Nina and her
whereabouts. He rather suspected she had gone to some relations near
Cape Town, but for the present her address was undiscoverable.
Very shortly after the result of the trial, Frank Farnborough was
granted by his company six months' leave of absence, with full pay in
the meantime. It was felt that the young man had been injured cruelly
by his imprisonment, and that some atonement was due to him; and the
great Diamond Company he served, not to be behind in the generous shake
of the hand, which all Kimberley was now anxious to extend to a hardly
used man, was not slow in giving practical manifestation of a public
sympathy. The stolen stone had been proved a De Beers diamond, and
Frank, its unfortunate temporary owner, had not only been deprived of a
valuable find, but for his innocent ownership had suffered terribly in a
way which no honest man could ever possibly forget. In addition,
therefore, to his grant of leave of absence and full salary, Frank was
handed a cheque for five hundred pounds, being, roughly, a half share of
the value of the recovered gem.
Frank at once set out upon an expedition on which he had long fixed his
mind--a hunting trip to the far interior. His preparations were soon
made, and, a few weeks later, he was enjoying his fill of sport and
adventure in the wild country north-east of the Transvaal, at that time
a veldt swarming with great game.